


Truth Be Told

by Xycuro



Category: Daredevil (TV), The Punisher (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Falling In Love, Human Disaster Matt Murdock, M/M, Realization, a lot of personal issues, bottled up anger, they're both disasters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 11:37:04
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20506337
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xycuro/pseuds/Xycuro
Summary: It haunts him in ways he can't explain.





	Truth Be Told

**Author's Note:**

> You ever just listen to Ozuna and Manuel Turizo's Esclavo De Tus Besos and write a one shot cause that's exactly what happened to me.

  
One thing Matt wishes he could do was to let go.   
  
  
It would've been easy.  
  
So easy.  
  
But he finds himself stuck.  
  
  
_You've really done it now, Murdock_, his mind chastises.  
  
  
It was so subtle at first; Matt didn't account for it to just _appear_, but it did. Very subtle and very slowly. He didn't know when or where to pinpoint how it started, but he knew something felt _off.  
_Punisher sightings were all over town whenever Matt put on the suit. They had caught up with each other, still running the same rhetoric. The same pattern of those who don't deserve to die and the argument of who is right and who is wrong. Frank decided to drop the arguing and focused on the mission. Matt eventually followed with that plan. Whatever gets the job done as long as there were less bodies piling up.  
  
It should've been that simple.  
  
Except it wasn't.  
  
  
The missions carried out fine in terms of the outcome, it was what developed during those times that Matt became aware of what was happening. Before they started their patrols, Frank would bring take out. It was a gesture that Matt didn't expect, but he felt the small box of food shoved in his way, and from there he realized this was The Punisher's way of showing kindness.  
  
"You can't go out here without eating something."  
  
Matt would always scoff at that.   
"And how would you know I haven't been eating much?"  
  
"Because I know you, Red," Frank would always say before digging his fork into rice. "I know you well enough that you listen first and then immediately put on the horns without thinking."  
  
“And why do you care?”  
  
Frank only gave a shrug. “I don’t want you performing like shit.”  
  
So they left it at that.  
Matt didn't think much of it anyway.   
  
Until the first aid kit came handy and he was being stitched by none other than Frank Castle. Then again, that came with the job description. Working alongside each other and getting injured is all part of the course, so a few patches on each other wasn't new. It’s common courtesy at this point.  
It should've been _simple.  
  
_How wrong Matt was for thinking that.  
  
He never expected Frank to be so gentle when patching him up. He never expected to feel his hands soothe his skin in a way no one else did. Maybe it's been a while since someone helped him out this way. Maybe he was that touch starved that even The Punisher was welcomed to go against his senses and keep them calm.  
  
Or maybe Matt has finally gone mad.  
  
He wished that were the case.  
Oh, how he desperately wanted it to be just that.  
  
  
Matt eventually began looking forward to these little team ups, and each time something would end differently than the way it started. In those late nights, Frank would spark up a conversation, and of course, Matt would respond. It would be of simple things. The weather, their day jobs, how their friends are doing. All the same basic topics. Matt realized that he was making small talk with The Punisher and that he _enjoyed_ it. His low voice kept him grounded in reality and made him understand that Frank was more human than he could ever imagine. It's the first voice he hears whenever a mission goes south and Frank was there to save his ass. He was grateful for that. Grateful that someone was watching his back.  
Slowly, Matt felt it become alive within, and without warning, it was overtaking his heart.  
The Devil went to different churches around New York, confessing the same thing over and over.  
  
This _thing_, what he's slowly _feeling_, again and again.  
  
Every priest gave him the same answer: to think about it and to decide whether or not it was a good thing. Matt took that advice home, and while he meditated by himself, the sounds of Hell's Kitchen was the only thing that kept him grounded before the scent of Frank that lingered so casually in his apartment allures him to thinking otherwise.  
  
His eyes shot open.  
  
_Oh god...  
  
  
_Matt began to notice it more often. When he was awake. When he was asleep. During work both in the day and at night. He silently scolds at himself for doing something like this. It's been too long. Not since Elektra.  
  
It haunts him in ways he can't explain.

While he walks as attorney at law Matthew Murdock, Frank's voice whispers in his head and claws at his soul. Despite that, Matt keeps going, keeping it hidden until nightfall, where Frank is there across the rooftop, sharing intel and laying out a plan. From there, Matt felt somewhat sated.  
It inches closer each time.   
  
  
Matt didn't think much of this...infatuation. It was more of a nuisance than anything. That should be the mindset, right? Make it as trivial as possible. He knows Frank wouldn't feel the same, so what was the point?   
Matt kept thinking it over and over. _There was no point_, his mind would yell, but Matt wasn't one to listen, especially when he does everything he can possible to be around Frank. Especially when Daredevil would strike into a more protective form and be slightly more brutal to those attacking The Punisher. Especially when Matt would light up from a slow day at work when Frank would appear on his radar, despite the fact it was only for an upcoming mission. It didn't matter. It was enough to keep the disease settled.  
  
  
What he didn't count on was for Frank to disappear.   
  
No, scratch that.  
For him to _leave.  
  
  
It's your fault_, his love sick mind would hiss.  
  
Matt got too close.   
He got too comfortable around the ex-marine, too open, and too welcoming. It was too much for Frank. So he left, just like that.  
There was no warning. No message. No goodbye.  
  
Matt suspected something was wrong during the last mission they had together. He asked what was on his mind and Frank said nothing. They carried out their night as usual and Frank left without saying a word. Everything felt rushed, as if the other man was in a hurry for something. Maybe it could be for something else, something personal.  
  
Or maybe Frank just wanted to get away from The Devil.  
  
  
Matt felt empty that night, lying awake with his senses focused, constantly shifting from heartbeat to heartbeat to try and find Frank's within the crowd. Nothing.  
He was already far out of his reach.  
Matt didn't get any sleep that night.  
  
It was ridiculous. 

  
They always leave him.  
  
Matt should've been used to this by now.  
He went to work as usual, went out at night as if nothing has changed. He listened in on Karen and Foggy's conversations and responded more often, and even began offering to hang out more. It didn't concern them all too much other than the few "Are you sure?"'s and "What about tonight?"'s. Matt would put on a faux smile and wave a hand.  
  
"Don't worry about it," he always said.  
  
It was all part of distracting himself. To help get away from the sickness that choked him. All a simple facade to keep him from falling apart. Foggy and Karen eventually began to pick at the guise, asking if something was wrong and that if Matt was feeling alright.  
"I'm fine," Matt would always insist, constantly lying through his teeth. He knows he shouldn't lie to his friends, but what was there to say? _'Everything is fine! My heart is torn apart and all I do at night is feel sorry for myself rather than sleep, but other than that, just peachy.'_ doesn't really cut it for a simple response. They would always play along with him, deciding to wait for Matt to tell them on his own instead of prying it out of him.   
  
Matt wasn't going to let that happen anyway.  
  
No matter how much it hurts him to pretend.  
He should’ve been used to this by now.  
  
And yet, Matt finds himself drinking alone in his apartment. He finds himself going to Fogwell’s gym more often. He finds himself spending too many nights without sleep and going after drug dealers and gun smugglers just to feel something other than heartbreak.   
  
He felt like an idiot.  
  
Longing for something he knew he never had a chance with. 

While the weeks turned into months, Matt’s somber mood slowly turned into anger.  
  
The fever that washed over him and kept him awake at night began to boil. It went from being simple vines that clung onto his insides to sprouting thorns that made his fists ache for a fight instead of his chest aching for solace. Why should he care anymore? It’s been months, Frank isn’t coming back. Matt agreed with that notion and decided to move on with his life, even though it wasn’t as easy as he originally thought it would be.   
  
“Do you want to talk about it?” Foggy asks one night, when it was just the two of them hanging out in the office with a couple of beers. Karen had left earlier to grab some takeout for the three of them, and it allowed Foggy to try and softly pry at his best friend’s barrier.   
  
“Talk about what?”  
  
“I just want to know what’s going on with you lately, buddy.”  
  
“_Why_?” _Ouch_, that sounded harsh. Matt softened his expression and regained some composure. He already revealed too much.   
  
Foggy was taken aback slightly, but he didn’t waver from it. “_Why_? I can’t be worried about my best friend?” he moves his seat closer. “Come on, Matt. Talk to me.”  
  
And so he decided to talk.  
  
Spill out what he’s been bottling up for so long.   
  
Matt kept Frank’s name in the dark, unsure of how Foggy would react to the revelation that his best friend has been yearning for none other than The Punisher for months. _No_; yearning is such a pathetic way to call it. He’s not yearning, he’s pissed. He’s _infuriated_. White hot anger has been flowing nonstop in his veins now so to call it something as simple as longing is an insult. It’s clear that Foggy is noticing it, trying to comfort his friend the best way he can without getting seared from patting his back too much.   
  
It was a good thing Matt allowed it, because he was quietly letting that anger out as he talked about it. Foggy was being helpful, that’s all. He can’t blame him.  
  
Unfortunately, when Karen came back with food, she was quick enough to put the pieces together.

“It’s Frank, isn’t it?”  
  
Before Foggy choked on his beer, Matt sighed, already hearing their heartbeats spiking up from the anticipation. He had his hand rubbing against his face; he’s been caught. He hears Karen sit down next to him and can already feel the sympathetic gaze aimed right at him. He has a feeling that Frank ghosted out on her too, knowing how close the two of them were. Matt didn’t want to keep dodging their questions, so he decided to go with the truth for once.  
  
“Yeah…it’s Frank.”  
  
  
  
He should be getting better.  
  
However, he still felt sick and angry.  
  
  
Matt would distract himself with the sounds of the outside, pinpointing to anything that can soothe his mind and lure him to sleep. Anything to keep himself steady and focused on what really mattered. He stopped feeling sorry for himself and eventually continued out with protecting Hell’s Kitchen as Daredevil.   
  
What he didn’t expect was the sudden change of pace.  
  
A change of pace that went completely backwards.   
  
  
Matt had his batons ready the second he entered the building, knowing that someone was there. There was that familiar pang in his heart that would skip a beat in hopes of a certain someone to be there when gun shots were fired. It’s happened before, whenever he would be intoxicated and allowed too much input of sound to muddle together into creating something that wasn’t there. He's glad it was never real.   
  
Except, it’s exactly what he didn’t want.   
  
  
The familiar scent of gun powder and coffee filled the room, and all Matt did was stand there while The Punisher took care of the job.  
  
“Hey Red…”  
  
  
God, he sounded _tired_.  
  
_But why should you care?_ Came the vicious growl of his mind, and Matt felt his insides go cold again.   
  
There was still a job to do.   
  
Daredevil left it at that, only giving a simple grunt of acknowledgement and left. He didn’t have time to scour up the buried mess he’s been so desperately trying to suffocate for so long. And from what he knew, Frank didn’t bother to say anything else.   
This happened again, and again. Making it some sort of silent team up they both didn’t want to address. Well, Daredevil didn’t want to consider it that way. He kept leaving with nothing to say, only this time, Frank decided to follow him even when it was clear The Devil wanted to be left alone.  
  
Damn it.  
  
  
“Red.”  
  
  
After the night was settling in, Daredevil continued to head back to his apartment, The Punisher still on his trail. He was being more of a hindrance than anything.   
  
“For fuck’s sake, talk to me.”  
  
_“Why?”_  
  
It was a warning snarl. Matt didn’t want to talk, he wanted to _forget_.  
  
“It feels like you want to say something, so say something,” Frank suggested, entering the window escape behind the vigilante. “I know you got questions.”  
  
He didn’t want to humor him.  
  
“I don’t; now get out of my apartment,” Matt was feeling that same anger burn in his chest again, and while he wanted a fight, that traitorous part of him didn’t want to lash out on Frank. _Soft_, one half of his mind taunted. It sounded way too much like Stick.   
  
“Bullshit,” Frank argued, walking over to where Matt was standing, already taking off the mask. “I know you’re itching to talk.”  
_  
Fine._  
  
“Fine, I’ll humor you just this once: Where did you go? Was that what you wanted me to ask?” Matt growled, keeping his glare fixed on the ex-marine.   
  
Frank sighed. “I had to take care of something personal, alright? Some shit went down with some people I know outside New York so I had to help, okay?”  
  
  
_Liar_.  
  
  
There’s something else he isn’t fessing up. 

“No.”  
  
“No?”  
  
“That’s not all of it, don’t fucking lie to me.”  
  
Matt silently prayed that he wouldn’t physically lash out. He didn’t want to make a mess in his home, that’s all. It had nothing to do with the concern of hurting Frank. He was beyond that, and he’s making sure that deceitful emotion was cornered by his wrath. Everything went silent for a brief second, only for it to be filled with Frank’s heartbeat picking up.  
  
He’s supposed to _hate_ that sound.  
  
  
“Tell me the truth, Frank.”  
  
“What else do you want me to say?”  
  
“Everything else because I know you’re leaving something out.”  
  
  
There was audible hesitation from the other man it was baffling. Matt tried to be as patient as he can, waiting for an answer. He’s giving him one chance and that’s it. So when the minutes ticked by with nothing but silence, Matt’s patience ran thin and barren.   
  
“Alright, get out.”  
  
  
Frank scoffed loudly. “You can’t be serious.”  
  
“No, I am, trust me. Now get the hell out of my apartment.”  
  
  
He didn’t move.  
  
“Get out, Frank.”  
  
  
When Frank refused, Matt stalked closer, hands already folding into fists. He hears that same shift of muscle across of him, so the feeling was starting to become mutual. Fuck it.   
Without warning, Matt threw the first punch, knowing Frank would block it easily, but it didn’t matter to him. Nothing mattered. He just wanted The Punisher out of his house, out of his head, out of his _life_.   
Frank only went into a defensive stance, not even bothering to fight back, which only pissed off Matt even further. Damn this man.   
His knuckles ached to _break_ something, but with an opponent that refused to fight, what was the point other than to let his frustration out. So many times the vigilante wanted to give a piece of his mind to The Punisher just to find some sort of closure, but he always imagined an equal fight.  
  
Not like this.  
  
“Fight back,” Matt gritted his teeth, still trying to wrestle with him and still completely consumed with nothing but pain and fury. “Damn it, _fight back_.”  
  
“No.”  
  
Soon, he found himself briefly distracted from the sickness and Frank grabs hold of him. Matt struggled in his grasp and tried pushing him away. He wanted to go for a head-butt, but Frank was more evasive than he thought.   
  
“Are you done? Listen to me.”  
  
There was pity hinted in his tone and that only made Matt even more enraged.   
  
“Fuck you,” Matt spat, breathing heavily and still trying to break free. “_Fuck you_.”  
  
“Red…please listen to me.”  
  
  
He shouldn’t have listen to how gentle Frank’s voice became, he _shouldn’t. _However, the thorns began to weaken just from the sound of it and he hated himself for allowing it to happen. Matt stopped fighting, only for a moment, just to catch his breath. That was the excuse in his head.   
  
He asks again.  
  
“Why? What the fuck are you doing? Why did you come back?”  
  
  
There was that frown clear on Frank’s face, one that he could easily hear.   
  
“The mission was done; I had to help Madani and Curt, Red. It finished early, but I…” he took his time, loosening his grip. “I couldn’t come back so soon...I was too busy being a god damn coward.”  
  
Matt lifts his head slightly.   
  
  
“What?”  
  
“You heard me. I was a coward. Was that what you wanted to hear?”  
  
In all honesty, he didn’t know what he wanted to hear. Matt didn’t expect an apology, nor did he originally expect Frank to come back. Now here he was, trying to get the world to make sense again.   
  
It didn’t cut it.  
  
Matt wanted to fight again, feeling his anger reemerge again, begging to attack. He felt like a rabid animal at this point, too frustrated to even make sense of things and only set on doing one thing and that was to fight. “I didn’t want to hear anything from you.” _Never again_, his broken self had whispered. _They always leave_.  
  
“Now you’re the one lying.”  
  
“Fuck you,” Matt repeated again, feeling his eyes sting. He didn’t want to tire out just yet. He wanted to give Frank one final say before he leaves again…and a few more punches to his jaw.   
  
“You’re pissed off, I get that, really,” Frank muttered, still having his hold on him. “I don’t blame you.”  
  
“Then why did you come back? If you had known that I wouldn’t want you around then why even bother showing up again?” Matt didn’t want to hear the truth anymore, he just wanted the ex-marine to leave already. But he knew a part of himself is crying out for him to stay, and his curiosity for an answer was getting the best of him.  
  
When Frank didn’t answer, Matt took his time to block everything out. Focus on something else, something other than his own heartbeat and Frank’s.   
  
“Cause I knew you wouldn’t forgive me if I stayed away.”  
  
_Why did he care?_  
  
  
“It’s better that way,” Matt hissed again.  
  
“No, it’s not and you know it,” Frank replied, rubbing his hand over his arm before bringing it up to his chin. “I fucked up, Matt. I'm admitting that to you right now, okay? I fucked up."  
  
From the sound of his name, Matt physically winced.   
Everything quiets down again and the turmoil he felt earlier began to settle, slowing down into a more organized pace.   
  
Frank was being serious, more so, he was being _honest_.  
  
Matt wanted to shove Frank’s hand away from him, but he couldn’t move. Those words echoed in his head, over and over again as he stared out at nothing. That’s all he wanted, really. The truth. Whether he wanted to admit it to himself or not, Matt wanted an answer to everything that has happened. Now that he was getting it, he didn’t know what to do. The world was beginning to turn upside down because that was the closest thing to an apology Frank has ever given. To Matt out of all people.   
  
When nothing else was said, Frank leaned closer to kiss him. It was a gentle, simple press of lips against each other with the intention of revealing the truth. It only lasted for a few seconds, allowing Matt to understand what had just happened. He sensed hesitation coming from Frank again, and before he could say anything, Matt took advantage of the loose hold against him, grabbing Frank by the jacket.

He wanted to punch him. He wanted to attack. Scream at him. Insult him. He wanted to throw him out of his apartment and never deal with him again…but the truth whispered in his head, making his anger die down. His grip turned soft and The Devil finally became weak, falling prey to his desires. Matt pulls him forward to catch his lips, kissing him back furiously with everything he’s got. Frank was happy to reciprocate. It was an array of kissing, biting, tongue and teeth, _everything_, but this was something Matt dreamed of too many times. He allowed the fever to take over, letting it overflow his anger and flush it out. Maybe he was desperate for a sense of touch. Maybe he finally lost his mind and this was the only way to understand that everything was real.

Maybe he had been pining for too long and this was the breaking point.   
  
They broke apart eventually, pressing their foreheads against each other and breathing slowly. Matt kept holding onto him, thinking that if he lets go he’ll disappear.   
  
“How long have you been waiting to do that?”  
  
  
Matt didn’t answer him. He only lowered his head, allowing his barriers to break. Frank pulls him closer, not sure of what else to do. It didn’t matter. His scent overwhelms him again. Matt had missed this. Missed _him_.   
  
It was enough.

  
  
  
  
After the truth was revealed, things began to go back to a regular pace. Soft gestures would interrupt Matt’s thoughts, making him listen to them. Frank got better at communicating, and it took time for them to understand how far this can go. Matt wasn’t used to this. He expected him to leave but The Punisher came back for _him_. The Devil took his time to develop forgiveness despite the excitement his heart wanted to achieve. It wasn’t something to be earned, rather, it was something to coax out of its hiding place little by little.   
  
They went back to their missions, still watching each other’s backs and went back to talking again. It was different now that they were both more open. They knew this, of course. Hell, Foggy and Karen noticed the change quickly and their worries began to die down. It made Matt smile more, this time, more genuine.   
  
It was progress.   
  
  
Eventually, Matt was getting better.   
They both got better.

  
“Stay.”

Matt had whispered once, when the two of them were back at his apartment after a long night. He held onto his hand, refusing to let him slip away. Force of habit.   
  
Frank nodded, crawling into bed with him and keeping him grounded under the sheets. Ever since then, Frank was always by his side. It was a welcoming change of pace for the two of them. Matt allowed his soul to be sated again and for Frank’s heartbeat to be the one to assure him of the peaceful silence in the room.   
  
  
  
And he refused to let go.


End file.
